I’d hoped to soon post some brag pictures of myself casually looking off into the distance, wind in my hair, and with nothing but clouds in the background. Or, maybe me and Ryan Gosling embraced in a contrived but nonsensical pose as we ascended up and away. Unfortunately, my plans to ride in a hot air balloon for the 4th of July block party on Tuesday night crashed straight into a power line (not literally). Ryan stood me up too. Jerk. The weather decided to act a fool the afternoon festivities were to commence, and upon arriving home from work and seeing no over sized inverted tear drop shaped balloons in sight, I assumed it was a no go. So, I went to a bar to meet some friends as consolation. Well, you know what annoyingly corny people say about assuming…
[Apparently the balloon did manifest itself at some point in the hour that I was away from the party. There were also reports that Ryan actually showed up as well and did a nude swan dive into the pond. Bastards. ]
That is the thing about expectations and planning. Convinced that they are both almost always self-destructive, I think I will quit making them. That whole night was the exact opposite of what I planned in my mind. It was so disappointing, that I actually wrote the most depressing draft for a post while slouched in the corner of my balcony as I watched the last and only fireworks I got to see that night pathetically sort of half explode. Must have been the left over duds arriving late to the party, just like me. It was probably the most unnecessarily dramatic thing I have ever written and certainly not appropriate for the tone of this particular blog. Although I will say, I am good at following Hemingway’s advice to, “Write drunk; edit sober”.
I deleted the pity party post the next morning when I pretty much woke up face down on my keyboard. But, to end on a lighter note, while I did not get to balloon cruise that night, I did make up for it on the actual 4th of July. A few friends, a few beers, and lawn chairs on a roof. Can’t get any
more redneck better than that. I regret nothing.
- Up (25tofly.com)
- A Hot Air Balloon Shaped Like Darth Vader (neatorama.com)
- Hot Air Ballooning – a bird’s eye view (gorentals.co.nz)
[Am I hallucinating again? Does that really say hot air balloon rides? Aliens may have abducted my blog yesterday, but I don’t think they abducted me and messed with my noggin. Maybe they erased my memory. Either way, yay for massive balloons and me inside of one.]
Next week brings Independence Day. This obviously brings with it celebrations, pyromania, and most importantly one much-needed day off of work. A certain conveniently placed party will be going down in my neighborhood. A neighbor of mine gushed about the annual fireworks show over the pond a few weeks ago in a Pilates class, and naturally, I have been impatiently waiting to enjoy the spectacle from my third story balcony ever since. I like it there. It is safe there. Just because I love fireworks doesn’t mean that I am not pathetically terrified that they are all defective and will somehow turn in to
heat Becca-seeking missiles as soon as they leave the cannon. There is a chilling childhood story that explains the origins of this fear, but it really isn’t chilling at all… at least not to anyone besides myself. I’ll keep that one in the vault for now.
Speaking of fear, I’ll get back to that balloon thing. Assuming that wasn’t an epic typo, this 4th of July is starting to look up (literally). Read the rest of this entry